No way can I be what I'm not
by Crazy Dame
Summary: Just how manipulative can Maureen be with Mark? This is my take on it.


Another argument. Nothing ever seemed to go right. And when it did, it was short lived because something would come up and blow it all to shit and they ended up right back where they had started. The reason why he kept trying to make it work over and over was long forgotten, the game had been going on for so long that he just shrugged when someone asked the question. He didn't have an answer. It couldn't be love. Love wasn't _this_ fucked up. Infatuation, maybe. Some sort of twisted "You're MINE " trip.

He knew better than to leave her. Or maybe it was the fact that he just _couldn't_. Whatever it was, it was haunting. Hauntingly _alluring_. It was the kind that when he closed his eyes he could see bits and pieces of things they had done together, see her splayed out across his bed, hear her voice, soft and sensual, in his ears as clear as day. Jolts of electricity coursed up each and every vertabrae of his spine, reminding him why it was he stayed and held on with both hands when he knew it was worthless.

"What the hell is it you want me to tell you? That 'I'm sorry'? You know the truth in that statement as well as I do." Her voice was nonchalant and amused, he hated it with a passion that she could brush things off that way. Talk about it as if she were discussing the weather. How the _hell_ could someone talk like that? Even though he wasn't looking at her, he could feel that little smile she always had on her lips boring into his back.

"Don't even start, I don't want to hear it." His words were tainted by his anger as he stomped in through the door to the apartment they occasionally shared with his best friend, and even though he wasn't there he knew it's not as if his roommate would really mind her around- he was just as entranced as he, himself, was. Though he denied it. He'd never admit it.

She followed him in silence, sliding the door shut behind her and leaning up against it as her warm gaze followed the man's movements through the dark. "What, jealous over a little kiss shared between friends?"

Her words stopped him cold in his tracks, making him turn on a sneakered heel, his jacket halfway down his arms. "A 'little kiss'? You had your tongue down his throat, not to mention where his hands were." He stopped himself, smirking before turning his back to the one at the door and proceeding to pull his coat off the rest of the way. Letting it fall where ever it wanted. He didn't care.

"This is pointless. Why keep trying? It's over. It's _been_ over." The sigh that had been following after it was stopped, held back, as he fell back onto the run down couch. The springs creaking beneath the weight that had suddenly appeared, crying out in high pitched squeaks as he shifted and leaned back to rub his eyes hard with the heels of his hands. "Yeah, it's over."

It was as if he was convincing himself more than he was her. The words playing over and over. Or he was at least attempting to, trying to _really_ convince himself that it was. Trying to let go. But the cycle would be broken by a memory of something they had done together that sent another jolt through him.

She knew this speech all too well, by heart even, and she knew that it was all bark and no bite. He wouldn't leave. He knew better. And if by chance he really did put his heart into it, his best buddy would stop him and bring him back.

"No, it's not."

He didn't open his eyes when he felt pressure in his lap, knees sliding up against his thighs as she straddled him, still in her coat. The soft, sweet smell of her perfume filled his nostrils and he turned his head away in an attempt to block her out- there in was his mistake as teeth found and claimed his earlobe.

"It's over when _I_ say it's over." Fingertips played across his collar bone from over the sweater clinging to his upper body, thumb brushing against the hollow of his throat. "I told you I was addictive. To take your chance. I **gave** you more than one chance to back out... You didn't take it."

Her voice grew darker against his ear, sending tingles rushing from his head down to his toes and then back up to harbor in one place in particular that she just happened to apply the right amount of pressure to. "Too late now, baby boy. Too. Late." The hand lingering against his throat tightened considerably, cutting off the moan that was escaping, letting her nails bite into his skin. "Do you still want to leave me?"

There was silence. Warm eyes stared into his face in the dark, her hot breath felt against his ear as she waited for the answer. Then there it was- a shake of a head. A soft "no" following shortly after. The grip eased before the hand fell away, arms moving to stretch past the his head, fingers curling around the edge of the couch as she ground her hips down in his lap. "Good answer, baby."


End file.
